Zenna Vortex: Eryniel Saga
by LA Knight
Summary: A child of Rohan, narrowly escaping an orc attack on her village, finds herself at the mercy of Fangorn, and all the creatures that live there. Meanwhile, an attack from the Enemy looms over Rohan and Fangorn, and Gandalf is troubled by dreams. Hiatus.
1. Prologue How It All Began

**Manen Sa Ilya Yessei **

**That Is, How It All Began**

"Who is _she_, Grandfather?"

Merry Brandybuck stared down at his grandson, Pippin, and then looked at the sketched portrait of the woman with the long, flowing hair and wise old eyes. It was a black and white sketch in the Red Book of Westmarch of a fair woman, whom Merry had known very well and for a very long time. On the opposite page was a sketch of King Eomer of Rohan.

"I've always wondered that myself, Uncle Merry," Elfstan Fairbairn replied, scruffing his thick golden curls. "The name only says _the Lady of All_. What does that mean? Who is she?"Meriadoc stared at the picture for a long time, and a tear rolled down his cheek as memory whispered softly through his mind. Peregrine, his grandson, named for his cousin and dearest friend, tugged at his sleeve and said, "Grandfather?" 

"She is Lothiriel of Dol Amroth, the Swan Princess, the Queen of Rohan, and it is her banner that flies alongside the green banner of Rohan, her cobalt pennant with the swan-prow ship and the ivory blossom. She is the wife and queen of Eomer, the King.

"But she was not born a princess and she was not raised a princess and she did not sit back during the War against the Enemy, the Shadow of the East and let the warriors around her attempt to defeat it without her aid. She fought for the war alongside your Great-Uncles, Pippin, Frodo, and Sam. 

"Once, a long time ago, a little girl was attacked by orcs, and she escaped, and she brought Lothiriel of Dol Amroth from the shores of the Sea, from the city of Dol Amroth to Rohan, brought the Woses to the King and renewed the Line of Eorl.

"This little girl was nameless for a long time, and she brought Lothiriel, the Lady of All, to us when we needed her most, when the Shadow came.

"Do you remember the story of the War of the Ring?"

"Oh, yes," said Samwise Took, ten-year-old son of Faramir. "We remember the stories of the War! Did the little girl and the woman help win the War?"

"Yes," Merry said softly, "yes, they did help win the war."

"Can you tell us the story, Uncle Merry?" Elfstan smiled up at him.

The old hobbit smiled a little wistfully and said, "I cannot tell you the story, but I can read it to you. I have this book," and he lifted up a tome bound in hunter green leather, tooled in gold.

"And this book can tell more of the story than I know from memory. But it's an important story, and few know it, so I'll read it to you children, and you will know who the woman in the picture is, how the little girl brought her to us, and how her part in the War began."Book one, part one, day one: _Deorwyn is missing_…." 

_**oo8oo8oo8oo** _

_In the words of JunoMagic:_

**_Please feel free to leave a comment!_**

_Anything at all: If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing._

_You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews._

_Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter._

_**Disclaimer/Author's Note:** don't own anything you recognize._


	2. Prt1 Deorwyn of Rohan Day 1 Deorwine

**Day 1**

**Lord Deorwine of Deorwang Province**

_Deorwyn is missing. _

Lord Deorwine tasted metallic fear in his mouth, like fresh blood, as his treacherous mind hissed those words in the back of his mind.

Grima, the King's new counselor, had been the one to tell him. With sympathy dripping like poison from every word, and what stank of feigned outrage and sly mockery, he had been the one to tell Deorwine that his lands, his province of Deorwang, the wild country less than a league from Fangorn, lay burned by Orc hands.

That his oldest son, twelve-year-old Eothain, was wounded, and that only the luck of the young and foolhardy and the quick thinking of the King's nephew, Eomer, had saved them both from being massacred along with many of the people of Deorwang.

That yes, his other two children, Gleowine and Delwyn, were both safe and sound, completely unharmed, awaiting him in the warmth of Meduseld's kitchens, and only frightened for their sister. That his wife, Gwynaeth, was alive and well.

But Deorwang was in ash and ruin, and his little one, his Deorwyn, his wild one, was missing, out and alone in the frigid chill of clinging winter's death grip.

Grima had said all that, with pity in his tone but none his eyes. There was no sympathy from him, only those words like blows from an axe.

_Your daughter is missing._

He made his way into the kitchens of Meduseld, and found his other two children sitting with the young lord Eomer and young lady Eowyn, sipping cups of frothy, fresh milk and eating piping hot, freshly baked bread. Gleowine sat with Eomer, the little boy tensed and his face white and pinched.

The King's nephew patted him on the back, though there was something akin to misery on the older boy's face when he turned to glance at Delwyn, the Lord's second daughter.

Delwyn rubbed at her face, and Deorwine felt his heart jerk in his chest. Delwyn and Deorwyn were twins, and to see Delwyn's face and know that his other child was lost, wandering in the wilds of Deorwang…

"Papa!" Delwyn scrambled off the table bench. The Lord of Deorwang dropped to his knees and opened his arms to let her run to him. "Deorwyn! Deorwyn is gone! You gots to find her, Papa!"

"We will," he murmured, stroking her golden hair. "We'll find her. There, there, now, we'll find her, _leofa_."

He held out his free arm to Gleowine, who toddled over to him and cuddled into his chest against Delwyn.

"We'll find her, I promise you."

"Lord Deorwine," a warm voice murmured from the doorway. He turned his head to see Prince Theodred standing hesitantly behind him. "My Lord King Théoden wishes to see you now."

Gently, Deorwine disengaged his trembling children from where they'd wrapped themselves in his travel-stained cloak to burrow close to him, and got to his feet. Ignoring the fear cloying on the back of his tongue, he began to follow the Prince out of the kitchens, when he stopped and leaned on the doorframe.

"Lord Eomer?"

The boy jumped, startled, and stared up at him.

"My lord?"

Deorwine stared for a long moment into the young lord's eyes, saw the self-loathing and the yearning, the heartache. This boy, this youth, had saved the life of Eothain, his son, but at the cost of Deorwyn, Eothain's sister.

Could he really say it?

Could he _really_?

"I…."

The look on the boy's face broke the grieving lord's heart.

"I thank you," he said, though it nearly choked him, "for the life of my son."

With that, he walked out.

**oo8oo8oo8oo**

**Please feel free to leave a comment!**

_Anything at all:_ If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.

You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Disclaimers: I don't own anything you recognize.


	3. Prt1 Deorwyn of Rohan Day 1 Deorwyn

**Day 1**

**Deorwyn, the Lost Child**

The monsters had finally gone.

Deorwyn trudged on, stumbling now in her weariness. It was getting late, she had to get back or her mama would be worried and might even _cry_….

But she couldn't go back. The monsters had set the village on fire, and everything had been burning and so hot it had hurt to be near and the flames had roared at her like the dragons Gleowine had told her about in his lisping baby talk, and she'd been scared.

She hadn't been able to find anyone, not her Papa or Mama, not her baby brother Gleowine or her twin sister Delwyn, not even Eothain… or Eomer….

Thinking about her brother Eothain made tears roll down her cheeks, but she hastily wiped them away. Only babies cried, and she was a big girl. She was six whole years old! She wasn't gonna start crying like a baby!

What would Eothain say?

What would _Eomer_ say?

Eomer, who was strong and brave and big like her brother, and nice, not like the other boys who were friends with Eothain.

Eomer, who promised to teach her how to ride, how to dance, both on her own feet and on horse back, with knives and with swords.

Eomer, who told her that one day, they would ride along the plains together as Riders of the Rohirrim, even though she was a girl.

Eomer, who told her that even girls could be brave.

What would Eomer say if he could see her crying?

With that thought, she dashed her tears with one clenched fist and kept walking. Tripping over her own feet, she tried to pretend it wasn't getting dark as she made for the forest.

Gleowine and Eothain had told her about fairies and elves and things who lived in forests and helped little girls who were lost and didn't know the way home. She would go find one in Fangorn, even if she had to wander around in the scary dark to do it.

But… maybe she'd suck her thumb a little, and hold Beornulf a bit tighter. No one would see, so no one would make fun of her babyish thumb sucking and doll coddling because the dark was coming, and with it, all the scary things the older boys who played with Eothain said came in the night and ate cry babies.

She kept walking, deeper and deeper into the forest, holding her Eorlingas doll to her chest, tripping every time her skirts caught on sticks or nettles.

When she could go no longer, she huddled up against a tree- _a roan_, she thought, _I think that's what Mama called it_- and fell asleep with her thumb in her mouth and her doll, her wooden and cloth doll her Papa had made for her to always feel safe, as if one of the riders of Rohan were with her always, clutched tight to her chest.

She suddenly wished for her sling, the sling Eothain had made for her to keep the wolves away from their sheep. She could hit a wolf from yards away, and make it hurt, make it mean something. Even Eothain and Eomer couldn't sling stones like she could.

She wished for her sling, but more than that, she wished for Delwyn- they'd never been apart for more than a few minutes, ever, not since they'd been born- and she wished for Eothain.

Even Gleowine, with his soft, lisping voice, timid as a mouse in a kitchen, and his stories that helped her sleep after she'd had nightmares.

Her Mama and Papa…

Eomer….

Deorwyn began singing softly, only to herself, and then remembered what Gleowine said, that trees liked music, too. So she sang a song that Gleowine had made up once, to help her sleep, and sang it to the tree.

_"Ni mera ten i aure ar i lauca numen vaiva_

_Ni mist i landa tier esse utuv o vana Tuile_

_I ancale selma fain ar i vilya selma luine_

_Yare ni utuv i irima laiqua Rien Tuile_

_Quen erin ni selma utuv i laiqua Rien Tuile…."_

She knew it was just her little brother's baby talk, but somehow she knew what he meant, what the song meant, and the song lulled her into sleep.The rowan tree whispered something with its leaves, and the wind carried its messages on through the great forests. The late winter air tasted Elder whispers, and wondered at this innocent mouth that sang such sweet words.

In the darkness, wild things caught the child's scent, even from the great distance, and followed the sweet smell of innocence.

**oo8oo8oo8oo**

In the words of JunoMagic:

**Please feel free to leave a comment!**

_Anything at all:_ If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.

You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	4. Prt1 DoR Day 1 Eomer & Eothain

**++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Day 1++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ **

**Eomer and Eothain **

_Eothain is crying._

That's what his sister had told him when she'd stood at the table in the hall's kitchens, plucking at his sleeve. Her eyes stormed with worry, twin skies steely with thunderclouds. Sighing, he'd left his supper and followed her to the stables. He didn't believe her, though. He and Eothain were old enough to wield swords, fight orcs, train to be riders of the Rohirrim. Riders of Rohan did not cry.

But there he was, curled up in the stall that held his horse, Deorwyn (named for his sister, he'd said, because she was the best sister of any he'd ever known, better even than Eowyn, though Eomer failed to see how anyone could be better than Eowyn, despite how she could nag sometimes and despite how brave and Rohirrim-like Deorwyn could be). The mare whuffed at the crying boy's wild blond hair, nudged him with her nose, but Eothain kept his head down in his arms and did not look up.

"Eothain?" Eomer sat down beside him, his stomach twisting. He wasn't quite sure what he ought to do. He somehow knew that if he went to get Theodred, Eothain would be upset. But Theodred always knew what to do, and he had no idea, he was only thirteen. He couldn't remember the last time his mother had comforted him, it had been a long time before she'd died- _killed herself, you mean, took her own life_- and he doubted that what his mother did would work for Eothain, anyway.

"What if no one finds her?" Eothain's voice was soft and muffled by his shirtsleeves, but the other boy understood. "What if the orcs took her?"

Eomer tried to think of something to say that wouldn't scare him, and finally settled for the truth. "My father says orcs don't care for children the way they do for women," whatever that meant, he still didn't know, only that it had something to do with virtue and a woman's honor, "and that they wouldn't have kidnapped her. So if she were dead, she'd have been found among the dead of the village. So she must be all right." The older boy thought he might feel a twinge at what he expected to be a lie, but he found that he really believed it. Deorwyn might not be as good a sister as Eowyn, but Eomer had met her, liked her. She was brave, for a girl, and smart. Not one of the spoiled brats that tried to follow Eothain's other friends around.

"I have to find her," Eothain whispered. He finally looked up, resting his chin on his arms. His eyes shone like wet emeralds. "She's lost out there, alone. She could get hurt." Eothain tasted something bitter. Eomer didn't understand. If it had been Eowyn, Eomund's son wouldn't have hesitated to rescue her. And Eothain… he had failed Deorwyn. His sister, he sweet little sister… if he and Eomer hadn't been off making mischief, he would never have lost her, he would've been there to protect her and fight the orcs when they descended on Deorwang. "I have to find her."

"Your father would never let you do that!"

"Then I'll run away and find her on my own!" Eothain was on his feet now, and even as he talked, he began saddling his mare. "You don't have to come with me, if you're scared of getting in trouble or anything. I don't _need_ you to come with me, I'm not a child. But I'm going to find my sister."

Eomer stared at his friend as if he thought the other boy were stark raving mad, then grinned widely. He clapped the other boy on the shoulder, a gesture his father had used, a gesture Theodred used on him still, and he said, "Not a chance. No one will say Eomer Eomund's son is afraid to help his best friend and brother. I'll ready Amberfire."

**Eowyn **

From the other side of the wall, Eowyn narrowed her eyes as she listened. Of course, those two would just go gallivanting off and leave her behind. Well, not likely! Just because she was a girl, and just because she wasn't old enough to train as a Rider, certainly didn't mean she was going to let them go off on their own and get into all sorts of trouble. If there was going to be trouble, she was going to be in the thick of it, right by her brother's side.

Silent and swift as a deer, she slipped away.

-------------------------------

Am currently listening to Gummi Bears theme song. I love 80s and early 90s cartoons. Or should I say car-tunes? Anyway, here's chapter 3. How do you like it?

In the words of JunoMagic:

**Please feel free to leave a comment!**

_Anything at all:_ If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.

You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Disclaimers: I do not own the Lord of the Rings; I do not own blah-blah-blah. Said it in chapter one.


	5. Prt1 Deorwyn of Rohan Day 1 Gandalf

**++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Day 1++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ **

**Gandalf **

The wizard slept, and dreamed.

_A little girl, with hair like tumbling gold and eyes like the forest, her rosebud lips wet with blood and she coughed and coughed, shivering in the cold morning light. She clutched a doll in one hand, and tried hard to keep the thumb she sucked for comfort in her mouth._

Even in sleep, Gandalf knew the child was sick, dying, but not so close to death that she could not be saved. Was this dreaming, or foresight? Distanced as he was from his dreaming, he knew it was at least not reality. But who was this little girl? She seemed so familiar….

_Two boys on horseback, both about thirteen, riding as if their lives depended on it, galloping away from a group of orcs. They try to make for the great hall looming up before them, but before they can make it, an arrow pierces the smaller boy's back. He cries out, clinging to his horse, and the orcs gain on them._

Gandalf recognized one of those boys: Eomer, King Théoden's nephew. The bigger one who had remained unscathed, as far as the wizard could tell. These dreams had the taste of foresight to them, and he had to wonder why this was all so very important.

_Treebeard, the Ent of Fangorn, looking as if something were eating away at him from the inside out, something that blackened his leaves and twisted his branches, and brought hideous, painful shadows to his eyes. He shuddered and coughed and wheezed, none of his usual _ba-ra-ra-room!_ He seemed shrunken and weak, sickening, and all around him Ents lay dying on the ground, and the forest was screaming._

With a cry of horror, the wizard bolted upright in his bed, and found himself safe, right where he'd expected, Rivendell. But on the covers of his bed lay three things: a single golden hair, the black fletching of an Orc arrow, and a twisted, dying oak leaf.

-------------------------------

Chapter four! Woot.

In the words of JunoMagic:

**Please feel free to leave a comment!**

_Anything at all:_ If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.

You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Disclaimers: I do not own the Lord of the Rings; I do not own blah-blah-blah. Said it in chapter one.


	6. Prt1 DoR Day 2 Treebeard & Deorwyn

**++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Day 2++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ **

**Treebeard **

The old Ent listened to the wind and water as he lay on his great bed. The water whispered of something new, something tender and precious in Fangorn, something that laughed like the streams laughed and smiled like the sun smiled. Something that sang like the birds sang, and kissed the flowers. Something that sang in the Elder tongue. Only this morning it had fallen into the shallows of the Entwash, and though it had soon splashed back out again, it had laughed and tried to move as slow as it could to avoid scaring the fish. The wind spoke of it, the little thing wandering into the forest, and of other things. How after the fall into the Entwash, the little precious thing shivered every time the wind tried to embrace it, and how it coughed hard, its breath blowing from inside it like a gale, and though it shivered in the wind, its flesh was hot as summer sunlight.

The Ent wondered at this new thing that was both hot and cold, and so small, and took delight in these wild things of Fangorn. But he must not be hasty. He would go see this little new thing, and see just what it was, good or evil, friend or foe.

**Deorwyn **

With a shriek and a resounding splash, Deorwyn fell into the Entwash again. Sputtering and coughing, she splashed her way above the surface and managed to get her throbbing feet underneath her. The stinging gash on the bottom of her left foot pulsed at her, reminding her that she'd been stupid enough to go into a forest with sharp rocks and no shoes on her feet. It hurt, but she wouldn't cry. Eothain never cried when he got hurt, so she wouldn't, either. Of course, Eothain always remembered to wear his shoes, as well, but Deorwyn was only six, she couldn't be as on-par as her older brother.

Spitting out some of the sweet water, she shook out her hair and looked around for Beornulf. She'd dropped him falling in. She had to find him, or he'd get scared and cold from being all wet! Her Papa always said that it was better to be cold, wet, and scared with someone else who was cold, wet, and scared than to be that way all alone. And Deorwyn hated being alone.

But when she spotted him, she almost cried. He was being borne swiftly down the river on the current churning up the deepest depths of the Entwash. Deorwyn didn't know how to swim, but she had to rescue Beornulf! How was she supposed to reach him? Her father had given him to her, she had to take care of him! He was her responsibility… and her friend….

Remembering how she'd seen her brother and his friends swimming in the river, splashing with their hands and kicking with their feet, she waded out as far as she could, standing on her very tippy-toes until the water was trying to splash its way into her upturned mouth. Tipping her head back to keep her mouth and nose above the water, she thought back to Eothain and Eomer, who swam as strong as horses fording a river. She could do that, she could swim like them.

With a slightly panicky, little hop and pushed herself into deeper, colder, faster waters…

And was promptly swept away by the vicious current, choking on icy water and scrambling to reach her doll, a rock, a tree branch, anything to keep her afloat.

-------------------------------

In the words of JunoMagic:

**Please feel free to leave a comment!**

_Anything at all:_ If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.

You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Disclaimers: I do not own the Lord of the Rings; I do not own blah-blah-blah. Said it in chapter one.


	7. Prt1 DoR Day 2 Eomer & Eothain

**++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Day 2++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ **

**Eothain and Eomer **

The boys were both in serious trouble.

Eothain slumped over the back of his horse, and the chestnut mare whickered softly and shifted, trying to keep her young master awake. Eomer rode beside him, casting anxious looks at the younger boy every few moments. The youth knew a little about field first aid, but only enough to know he could never get the Orc arrow out of his friend's side without probably making it worse. They had to go back to Edoras if he were going to survive the shot. Eomer knew he would one day be Third Marshall of the Mark like his father had been before his death, and as a commander, a captain of men, even a future captain, his job was to keep his men alive. Which meant he had to get Eothain somewhere safe to be treated.

"We have to keep looking," Eothain mumbled against his mount's silky neck. He knew Deorwyn was close by, they were near the borders of Fangorn, where Deorwang had stood, and the boy could feel his sister calling out to him. He could taste it, and he knew she was in some kind of danger, that she had to be found and taken care of. "She's nearby, I can feel it, Eomer…."

Eomer bit his lip, but shook his head. They had to go back.

"Eothain-" He began, when a bloodcurdling cry raged from behind them. Turning, both boys saw the band of orcs that had chased them halfway across the Plains and shot Eothain with their poisoned arrow. They were galloping towards them on Wargs! "Orcs!"

"Ride, Eomer!" The younger boy sat up straighter, wrapping the reins tightly around his fists. With a cry of "Ride!" Amberfire and Deorwyn took off at a gallop, careful to keep their young masters seated but racing desperately to outrun the orcs. The Westfold Hall rose up before the boys, and Eomer yelled out, "Hai! Orcs are coming! Orcs are coming!"

The watchers on the walls started in shock, and suddenly everything was happening at once… including Amberfire the golden stallion and Deorwyn the chestnut mare being shot out from under the boys by Orc arrows.

-------------------------------

In the words of JunoMagic:

**Please feel free to leave a comment!**

_Anything at all:_ If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.

You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Disclaimers: I do not own the Lord of the Rings; I do not own blah-blah-blah. Said it in chapter one.


	8. Prt1 DoR Day 3 Gandalf & Treebeard

**++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Day 3++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ **

**Gandalf **

Somehow he doubted he would make it before the little girl fell ill. It would take four days to get from Rivendell to the Northern borders of Fangorn, perhaps less if he rode his horse to foundering. He didn't know why it was so important that he be there, but he knew that without him, the child would die of the lung fever before any other help could be found. The wizard knew that, and knew that the child could not be allowed to die. She would soon be very, very necessary. And beyond the immediate future… she would be imperative. But for the life of him, with all his foresight, he could not see how.

**Treebeard **

The little thing the wind and water spoke of lay shivering on the banks of the Entwash, clutching a soaking wet cloth and wooden doll, curled up as tight as she could get to keep warm. Treebeard knew exactly what this new thing was: a human child. A sick human child, and one all alone.

Gently, he lifted the child up, cradling her in one moss-covered hand. She was very white. He didn't think humans were supposed to be that color, the color of pale mushrooms beneath rocks. Most of the horse masters- and he was sure she was one of them, she had the sun colored hair- had golden brown skin, but this child, this little thing… she was so pale and wet and cold, like a fish.

She mumbled something in a half lilt, almost as if she were trying to sing. Something about finding the lovely green Lady Spring… but she spoke in Quenya and Sindarin. Mixing the two, and her accent, told him that she had picked up the language from someone young, who spoke well but had not been formally educated, perhaps learning out of books instead of from teachers. But the Rohirrim had no dealings with the Firstborn, as far as the old Ent knew. Where had she learned their language?

She stirred in his palm, and his heart was moved with pity. She was so small. How many seasons had she seen? It could not have been many. And she burned with fever. That fall in the river had not been good for her, not combined with the frigid _Sulime_ air. He surely could not leave such an innocent creature alone to freeze. It was a miracle she had survived the cold this long, and if the wind had been blowing, he knew she would have frozen to death already.

"Well," he mumbled in his deep, rolling voice, "I am not usually so hasty, but you do not look well, little human child. So you must come with me to my home."

Deorwyn took a shuddering breath, feeling a wet burning in her chest as she inhaled. She looked up at the creature holding her, into its deep, foresty eyes. It had eyes like a forest spirit, she thought. But it was so big and tall….

"Are you a giant?" Her voice was a breath, barely audible. A soft tendril of fear found Treebeard's heart. He could feel sickness on her breath where it blew against his bark. He had to get her back to Wellinghall. There, if he could get some Ent-Drought into her, he was almost sure she would be better.

"You might say so," Treebeard murmured. She smiled up at him, and it felt as if spring had come, just a tiny puff of spring, but spring none the less.

"I don't feel good," she whispered, rubbing her face. "My feet hurt. And I'm hungry."

"Come along," he said. "I will take you somewhere safe." Cradling her carefully in the palms of his hands, he began walking quite hastily towards Wellinghall.

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New chapter. Like it so far? In the words of JunoMagic:

**Please feel free to leave a comment!**

_Anything at all:_ If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.

You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Disclaimers: I do not own the Lord of the Rings; I do not own blah-blah-blah. Said it in chapter one.


	9. Prt1 DoR Day 3 At Meduseld & Isengard

**++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Day 3++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ **

**Theodred and Eomer **

"You are lucky, Eomer Eomund's son. If you were any other boy, I'd thrash you in a moment."

The King's nephew looked up at his cousin, the Second Marshall of the Riddermark, into those eyes full of red rage and dark disappointment, and wondered how everything had gone so wrong. He'd only been trying to help a friend find his sister, and now Eothain was grievously wounded, Eowyn was missing, he himself was in disgrace before his uncle, Amberfire was dead and Eothain's horse wounded, and Theodred was angry at him.

"I… I was only trying to… I only meant to… I'm sorry, Your Highness," the boy mumbled, bowing his head. Heat suffused his cheeks, and he could feel hot tears of shame stinging his eyes. To have disappointed Theodred, who had believed in him and taught him what it was to be Rohirrim… and to have failed Eothain, his dearest friend….

"I know what you meant to do, Eomer," Theodred murmured softly, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "As I said, if you were any other boy, I'd thrash you this instant. But you are not any other boy. You are Eomer, my cousin, and I know your heart. You only meant to help your friend, and a lady in distress." The prince chuckled when at the look on his young cousin's face. Tag-along little Deorwyn, a lady? A pest, a sister and a nag, maybe, but not a lady! She was too little! "Yes, a lady. A small one, to be sure, but a lady none the less. You were only doing what you thought was best. But you should leave the deeds of search and rescue to the Eorlingas. Because of your foolishness, we have lost two fine horses, and Eothain is hurt."

The young boy could not stop a tear from rolling down his cheek.

"We will find Deorwyn, I promise you," Theodred murmured. With that, the prince left Eomer in the stables, curled up beside Hildwyn, his cousin's mare, with the sick feeling in his chest that no, the Eorlingas would never find his friend's sister.

**Deorwine & Eothain **

The eldest son of the Lord of Deorwang burned with fever as the Orc poison coursed steadily through his veins. The sheets were drenched with sweat, and he thrashed in his oblivion, moaning, "Deorwyn… wild one, wild one… Deorwyn… sister…."

At his bedside, Lord Deorwine brushed back a sopping wet strand of hair. The poison raced through the boy, eating him up, and there was nothing he could do. Would the Valar take his son, his oldest child, his pride and joy and honor, as well as his eldest daughter?

"Deorwyn… Fangorn… don't hurt her… Deorwyn… wild one… the silver sea… Eomer… Woses… Deorwyn… the trees… the White Hand is killing the trees… must not… Deorwyn…." Eothain cried, and fell into deeper sleep.

"I'll find her, Eothain," he murmured, stroking back his son's hair. "I'll find her."

**Saruman **

Ever so carefully, the White Wizard pulled the stopper from a crystal vial and poured the thick, red liquid into the Entwash. As it seeped into the waters, Saruman cast his eyes towards Fangorn, and smiled a cold, cruel smile. Soon the forest would be at his mercy. If all went well, the forest would fall, and he would have stripped Gandalf of that power base. Steel and iron was his power, rowan and ash the power of Gandalf, and at this point, taking as much power from _that side _was a good idea.

_The wild child… the swan princess… beware her_…. Something at the edge of Saruman's mind whispered softly. Frowning, he thought about this as the water of the Entwash grew murky. Wild child… swan princess… Dol Amroth? The Swan Princess, Finduilas of Dol Amroth, was dead. What other Swan Princess was there? Imrahil had no daughter… and as long as he had no daughter, there was no danger. Well and good.

He listened intently as the life in the river began screaming in pain, and smiled.

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Jeez... what a jerk.

In the words of JunoMagic:

**Please feel free to leave a comment!**

_Anything at all:_ If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.

You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Disclaimers: I do not own the Lord of the Rings; I do not own blah-blah-blah. Said it in chapter one.


	10. Prt1 DoR Day 4 Treebeard & Deorwyn

**++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Day 4++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ **

**Treebeard **

The old Ent paced back and forth, muttering a few _ha-ra-hooms_ and creaking like a forest in a gale. His sap chilled when he realized that despite his noise, the human child on the pile of grass on his bed had not stirred except to start coughing. She lay curled up tight, huddled into a ball. She had slept since the night before, and still wore the damp clothing she had fallen into the river in. She clutched the doll, pressed her face into it, and coughed. Her small body was racked with chills and brutal hacking coughing. She gasped, struggling for breath, and her coughing subsided. The lacerations on her tiny feet weren't bleeding anymore, but the flesh around the cuts was red and inflamed, infected.

He sighed, a rolling, creaking sigh, and picked up one of the earthen ware bowls on his table. Carefully, he filled it from one of his jars of Ent-Draught, and laid it on the table by the pile of grass he'd piled there for the human child. He was no healer, he could do nothing for her himself. Only the life-quickening magic of the Draught could be of any help here.

Ever so gently, he lifted her up from the bed, cradling her in his palm, and rumbled, "Wake up, now. You must drink some Ent-Draught. It will help make you better. Wake up, _tithen hen_, little child."

Her eyes drifted open, and the old Ent was again shocked at the deep, woodsy wildness in her eyes. She had Ent eyes, full of old forests and ancient tales. When she had sat up, almost painfully slow in her movements, slower than sap in winter running through evergreen trees, he set her on the table, and he saw how her hands shook as she lifted the bowl up to her mouth and drank the drought down. Some of the liquid spilled down her chin, and she coughed hard.

"I don't feel good," she mumbled when the coughing subsided. "My feet hurt." She looked up at him with wet eyes, and he realized she was close to tears. She tried to speak again, to say something. Maybe she saw the concern in his face, and wanted to comfort _him_. Children of any race were like that, be they human children or Entings. But when she tried to speak, her voice rasped in her throat and she winced, and gave the first whimper that always precedes a bout of child's crying.

"Now, now," he ba-roomed, "there, there, _tithen pen_, little one. You're all right, you'll be better soon. Be at peace. _Sidhn_, be at peace."

She subsided, scrubbing weakly at her face to dash away her tears. He showed her how to wash her feet with the remains of the Ent-Draught, and though he could see it hurt her to touch the inflamed wounds on her feet, she did as he told her. Finally, after carefully stretching her legs out full length before her and leaning back on her hands, she looked up at him expectantly.

"_Tithen pen_," he said after a few moments, "what is your name?" She opened her tiny mouth to answer and began hacking and coughing again. This time, the force of it racked her tiny body so brutally she fell on her side, hunching up in on herself. Treebeard saw flecks of crimson on the stone of his table near where she laid her cheek against the cool stone.

"D-Deor… Deor…." She pressed her feverish face against the table and tried to breathe. Her little body shivered, lying in a limp heap on the stone table. Only at his gentle promptings did she roll over on her back. Gently, he touched a branch tip to her forehead and felt how her flesh burned. He sighed, and lifted her up, taking her back to the bed and her pile of soft grass, but he did not set her down. Cradling her in the palms of his hands, he sang to her, a song that reminded him of Fimbrethil, and often had helped the young Entings to sleep.

_"No i ortheli o_ _lore golas, beneath the roof of sleeping leaves,_

_Ar i olori o galadhad pant, and the dream of trees unfurled, _

_Ir erindor rondi na laiqua ar himb, when woodland halls are green and cool, _

_Ar i vaiva na esse i Annun, and the wind is in the West, _

_Teli at na nin, teli at na nin, come back to me, come back to me, _

_Ar ped nin dor na ro ilya, and say my land is best." _

She was asleep the instant her head hit the pillow, exhausted from her sickness.

He didn't know what he would do if the child got any worse.

-------------------------------

I'm listening to the Care Bears, "Flying My Colors." Bit ironic, that.

In the words of JunoMagic:

**Please feel free to leave a comment!**

_Anything at all:_ If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.

You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Disclaimers: I do not own the Lord of the Rings; I do not own blah-blah-blah. Said it in chapter one.


	11. Prt1 Deorwyn of Rohan Day 5 Treebeard

**+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Day 5+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++**

**Treebeard**

The child _was_ worse.

She had not stopped shivering since night had fallen, and she coughed even in her sleep, vicious hacking coughing that sounded of winter and death. When she drew breath, he could hear the air trying to break through wetness deep in her lungs, and knew she was gravely ill. She was pale, but her face was flushed, red with fever, and when he carried her from the bed of soft grasses to the table to drink Ent-Draught, holding her cradled in his branches was like holding the summer sunlight, hot, and not pleasantly so. Almost scalding. Her hands shook like leaves in a winter gale when she lifted her bowl of Ent-Draught to her lips. She was slowly fading, like a plucked flower, fading away to nothing but insubstantial heat and shuddering breath. The old Ent did not think he could bear it if she died.

The sound of her labored breathing tore at him. Here was a tiny creature, so young and full of life, a little green shoot of a creature barely out of her first spring, and she was dying and in pain of it, suffering. She tossed and turned, murmuring, "Eothain… Eothain…." She burned in her sleep. She was dying, and Treebeard did not even know the little one's name.

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In the words of JunoMagic:

**Please feel free to leave a comment!**

_Anything at all:_ If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.

You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Disclaimers: I do not own the Lord of the Rings; I do not own blah-blah-blah. Said it in chapter one.


	12. Prt1 DoR Day 5 Gandalf & Deorwyn

**++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Day 5++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++**

**Gandalf**

The thundering of his horse's hooves upon hard earth, the bunching of strong muscles under his legs, the wind through his long grey hair and beard, should have soothed him. Out and alone in the wilds, racing across the plains of Rohan, he should have known peace. But dreams of that golden-haired wild child haunted his nights, and memories of dreams dogged his footsteps in daylight. He knew she was near death. A day, maybe two and she would be beyond his aid.

"Noro lim, Aforgwai! Noro lim!"

As the pounding of hooves echoed in his head, he trained his eyes to the far off emerald shadow of Fangorn Forest. He knew that the child waited for him there, and that he had less than days to get to her side, or she would be lost to them all forever.

**Deorwyn**

The tree man had disappeared, and she didn't know where he'd gone. That made her sad. When the tree man sang, she could breathe better, and her throat didn't hurt as much. She felt warmer, and even the grass felt softer.

Suddenly, she couldn't breathe for coughing, and she tried to get the icky wet stuff out of her chest and out of her mouth, but it didn't go. She could hardly breathe around and through it. She sniffled, and hugged Beornulf to her chest.

"I think I'm going to die, Beornulf," she whispered raggedly to him, and kissed his little wooden head. "I don't feel good. I'm really sick, and we know what happens when you get really sick, don't we? That's what happened to Eowine, remember? He got really sick and died, and Eothain was sad. I hope Eothain isn't sad when I die. I miss Eothain. And Mama and Papa… Delwyn… Gleowine. And the tree man. He's nice. You better be good when I'm dead, Beornulf. The tree man can't afford to be minding you all the time. My feet hurt…." She fell asleep, unable to hold her eyes open any longer.

Treebeard opened his eyes, and stared at the tiny figure on his great, big bed. She hadn't recognized him since he'd been holding still, his eyes shut. He looked a tree to her innocent eyes.

Did the little one truly believe she would die?

The Ent felt his heart breaking, and wondered absently when he had become so hasty, that so few days had passed before he had lost his heart to this innocent, shivering, dying thing.

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In the words of JunoMagic:

**Please feel free to leave a comment!**

_Anything at all:_ If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.

You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Disclaimers: I do not own the Lord of the Rings; I do not own blah-blah-blah. Said it in chapter one.


	13. Prt1 DoR Day 5 Grima Wormtongue & Delwyn

**++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Day 5++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++**

**Grima & Delwyn**

Grima Wormtongue was not quite sure, but he sensed that though the other members of Lord Deorwine's household were shattered by the loss of his eldest daughter, the other daughter, the missing girl's twin, was not so unhappy. The golden-haired child with the glacial emerald eyes sat at the window of the Royal Library, staring out into the night. She held a cloth and wooden doll tight to her chest. A princess in a white tower, safe behind her stone walls.

"Little one… Lady Delwyn, you should not be alone. You should remain with your mother, helping to mind your brother," he murmured gently. The child cast him a dismissive glance, but did not answer. "Surely the Lady Gwynaeth is needful of you. Or perhaps your grandfather, the King's Minstrel. Perhaps he would enjoy your company." Again she cast him a glance, this one irritated, before returning to stare out the window. Her knuckles whitened as her grip tightened on the doll identical to Beornulf. Struggling so hard not to notice the monster under the bed. But was he the monster… or the light that banished it?

"Ah, I see." Grima pulled a chair up and sat down to face her. "You do not wish their company. They upset you. They are afraid for your sister. They are afraid for Eothain. They are afraid for Gleowine, and the nightmares and terrors that have struck him silent. Is that not so?" This time, the child nodded, a mere jerk of her chin towards her chest, but Grima saw it, saw the anger in it. "But… but, they are not afraid for you. What happened to you, my lady? What did the orcs do to you?"

_Little girl, little girl, let the big, bad wolf come in…._

The child turned to him, then, and held out her hand, pulling back her sleeve, revealing a long cut, from the middle of her upper arm to her wrist. The flesh around it was fish pale, threaded with fat, green veins and razor thin, jagged red lines. When he touched it, ever so gently, she flinched. He did, too, jerking his hand back from the hot, swollen flesh.

"Why did you tell no one about this?" He asked curiously. He was shocked that the child hadn't succumbed to blood poisoning or fever. The sheer stubbornness of Deorwine's brood, perhaps. The same stubbornness that kept Eothain still among the living, despite the fever ravaging his body; the same stubbornness that made Gleowine shove his tiny fist in his mouth to muffle his screams so he wouldn't wake his mother from her troubled dreams. That stubbornness that made Delwyn refuse to ask her broken-hearted mother or her distracted, worried father for help, when Gwynaeth was so focused on the missing Deorwyn and Deorwine so focused on the feverish Eothain. He admired that stubbornness, especially in one so young.

She shrugged, and let her sleeve fall back down to her wrist. "Mama was busy. Papa was with Eothain. Gleowine is too little to help." He tasted bitterness in those words, a bitterness she was far too young to have. Perhaps she had lost a friend or a playmate in the attack. Perhaps she, too, was hurting the way Lord Deorwine was hurting for the loss of some of his comrades.

"Will you let me see to your wound, my lady?" He held out a hand to her. This was it. Up until this point, she had kept a solid stone wall around her, and he had been slowly wedging a chisel beneath it, breaking the wall from its foundations. Only a little space, but it was all he would need to get inside. And here, this was the final tap to the chisel to break the stone. Would it work?

She took his hand. The wall slowly began to crumble.

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In the words of JunoMagic:

**Please feel free to leave a comment!**

_Anything at all:_ If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.

You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Disclaimers: I do not own the Lord of the Rings; I do not own blah-blah-blah. Said it in chapter one.


	14. Prt1 DoR Day 6 Treebeard & Deorwyn

**++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Day 6++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ **

**Treebeard & Deorwyn **

"No… no! Del… Del, no!" The child was thrashing in her sleep, crying out in fear. "Watch out! Del, no! He's a bad man, Del, he's a bad man!" She gasped for breath, trying to drag precious air into her lungs. Clutching her doll, she moaned, "Del… Del! Del, don't… Eothain… stop… stop… Del, no! Don't hurt Eomer! DON'T HURT EOMER!"

The child thrashed about, sobbing and whimpering names of people Treebeard had never heard of before. They were names of humans… perhaps her family?

"No," she wept softly, "no, please… Celebaer! Celebaer… Ada… Wikek…." And she fell deeper into sleep, falling silent and still. Treebeard blinked slowly and brushed a gentle twig against her soft cheek. She burned like fire now, not just summer sunlight, and her breath gurgled wetly in her chest as she tried to take in air. She needed aid, aid he had no way to bring her. She needed a Wizard.

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In the words of JunoMagic:

**Please feel free to leave a comment!**

_Anything at all:_ If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.

You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Disclaimers: I do not own the Lord of the Rings; I do not own blah-blah-blah. Said it in chapter one.


	15. Prt1 DoR Day6 TreebeardGandalf & Deorwyn

**++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Day 6++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ** **Gandalf & Treebeard **

Gandalf the Grey broke through the border of Fangorn at a full gallop. His horse's nostrils steamed, and he could feel the lathering sweat coming from the beast's flanks. He couldn't go on driving his animal like this for much longer but he was so close! He could feel the child, feel her life, like a flickering candle flame in a cold, dark room. She was close, so close.

He went on and on, his horse thundering through the brush until a familiar, booming voice cried, "Gandalf!"

He pulled his horse to a stop in front of Wellinghall, the home of the Old Ent of this forest. Upon the ground, on a bed of sweet smelling, soft grass, lay the child from his dreams, her golden hair lank and damp with sweat, her face flushed with fever, her body thin as it burned up what fat and muscle it still had because the burning fever was eating up her body faster than even the Ent Draught could recover her.

"You've come! How did you know to come?" Treebeard cried as Gandalf rushed to the little child burning up upon the grass. She whimpered in her sleep as he took her into his arms.

"I dreamed of her," the Wizard murmured, passing a hand over her face. "By the Valar," he breathed in horror. "She is caught even now. I was nearly too late. She may yet die." To Treebeard he cried, "I must light a fire."

"Do whatever you must to save her," the Ent rumbled, watching as Gandalf set fire to the bed of sweet grass and rushed to gather kindling from the surrounding wood. When the fire was up nice and high, he laid her out on another bed of grass the giant creature had prepared and stripped the child of her sweat-drenched clothes, covering her with his warm, woolen cloak. She coughed weakly, and Gandalf knew true fear. The child was nearing the end of her strength. They had to move quickly.

"I need to make healing tea with some of your Ent Draught. Quickly!"

The Wizard and the Ent worked swiftly, rousing the little girl until she was awake enough to drink the mugs of hyssop and fenugreek tea Gandalf kept placing in her hand to help her cough up the wetness in her lungs. Hours passed, and she drank the tea, and finally she spit up the gobs of wetness in her chest. The wizard held her close to him, warming her as she settled into sweeter, easier breathing, and finally, thank the Valar, she fell into sleep and cuddled into his arms.

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In the words of JunoMagic:

**Please feel free to leave a comment!**

_Anything at all:_ If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.

You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Disclaimers: I do not own the Lord of the Rings; I do not own blah-blah-blah. Said it in chapter one.


	16. Prt1 DoR Day 7 Gandalf & Nameless Child

**++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Day 7++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ **

**Gandalf & the Nameless Child**

"What is your name, little one?" Gandalf murmured gently to the child, brushing her sweat-dampened hair from her eyes. "You must tell me your name."

She wasn't worse, she was better, but she wasn't quite out of the woods just yet.

"I don't remember," she whispered softly. "I don't remember… where am I? Where… is… the tree… man…." A cough ripped through her chest, nearly breaking her in half, and Gandalf held her tight as blood spattered her lips. She clutched his silvery grey robe, turning her face into the cloth and hunching her body as tight as she could until the pain and hacking subsided.

"You don't remember your name? Do you remember anything at all? Your mother? Your father?" Gandalf winced when she cleared her throat, turned her head, and spat a gob of blood onto the dirt and the loam. She whispered, "Mama is… she… white dress… pretty…."

"Is that all you remember?" He asked her just as the kettle began whistling to him that the water for the fenugreek and hyssop tea was ready. She wouldn't like it, it would taste about as sweet as brambles and bull urine, but it would help her with that vicious cough. As many mothers of the Three Races often said, if it tasted nasty, it obviously was doing its job. As many children of the Three Races said, that didn't make it any easier to swallow.

He left off the questioning as he brewed the tea. It smelled nice, but a nice smell didn't mean a nice taste. But perhaps the smell and the steam would soothe her throat. As the herbs steeped in the boiling water, he watched as she inhaled the steam blowing on the wind. She breathed deep, her eyes closed, her little black lace lashes making small crescents on her pale cheeks. He could hear her trying to cut through the wetness in her chest from the lung sickness with every breath. She was literally drowning, slowly drowning as she struggled to breathe.

"Little one," he murmured, coming back over to her and kneeling beside her. He helped her to sit up, and wrapped her tiny hands around the mug full of tea. "Drink this. Please, little wild one, you must drink this. It will make you better."

She tried to sip the tea and ended up scalding her tongue. Gandalf whispered, "Blow on it, child. To cool it. But you must drink it." She took another sip and tried to hand the mug back, mumbling, "No… I don't like it. Please…."

"Wild child, I know it tastes vile. But I shall drink some if you will. We'll taste its vileness together. All right?" He murmured cajolingly. She looked up at him from beneath her tumbling curls of dark gold, her eyes woodsy and full of pain. Her lips were wet with blood. Was the sweet little thing going to die, even after all the tending and the care? She couldn't die….

She sipped the tea, and didn't complain about the taste. She merely drank it down, and slept after. She didn't remind him that he was supposed to drink it to. She merely closed her eyes and lay back against the trunk of the willow tree, trying to sleep.

The nameless child awoke as the tree man returned, creaking like a gale in the leaves. She watched him through half-lidded eyes in the light of the glowing coals of the grey man's fire. He seemed to be made of darkness and whispers, rocks breaking and trees growing in the ages. He smelled of fresh grass and growing things and spring. She clutched Beornulf to her chest and kissed his head to comfort him.

Suddenly a mug was pressed into her hand, and the grey man leaned over her and tucked his cloak tighter around her shivering form. He smelled of smoke. It was a nice smell, it reminded her of… of… her Mama when she swept out the hearths at… at… she couldn't remember. He murmured, "Drink this, little one, and I shall sing you a lullaby. Would you like that?"

"Yes, please," she replied softly, and her throat burned less than it had before. Maybe his nasty medicine worked after all. She didn't feel so sick now, and not quite as sleepy as before.

The grey man pulled out his pipe, stuffed it full of something, and lit it with a tiny flame from the fire. He blew several large rings of pale, blue-grey smoke and pulled the pipe out of his mouth to say, "Watch the smoke rings, sweeting." And he began to sing.

_**Eorl the Young became a king **_

_**Through deeds recorded in history **_

_**I shall tell now the tale of Eorl the Young **_

_**And how he rode to the aid of Gondor **_

_**He was leader of the horse people **_

_**But no other title had he **_

_**Until the day Borondir hailed from the White City **_

_**On behalf of the Steward of Gondor **_

_**The men of Balchoth were attacking **_

_**Minas Tirith would surely fall **_

_**What would Eorl do?**_

As he sang, the nameless child watched horses and riders of blue and green smoke shape shift into being as he smoked and begin to dance in the circle of fire stones. She gasped, and Gandalf smiled around his pipe stem. The little one was enjoying the show. A seven-circled city of pale gray smoke blew from his mouth, complete with tiny ramparts and towers and men-at-arms. He showed the galloping host of Eorl in the pale smoke, and she breathed a soft gasp of delight.

_**Eorl knew if the city fell **_

_**That Gondor should swiftly follow **_

_**That Middle Earth would become overshadowed **_

_**So the lords and masters of horses **_

_**Rode to the aid if the White Tower **_

_**Seven thousand men and hundreds more **_

_**Rode upon horses of gold and brown **_

_**Swift as the wind they rode to war **_

_**Their swords shone like mirrors **_

_**Their mail glimmered and their shields did not break **_

_**Their swords and spears were sharp and bright **_

_**They passed the shadow of Mirkwood **_

_**But the Golden Woods of Lorien protected them **_

_**Like thunder they came across the mountains **_

_**As if the hooves of their horses had wings **_

_**And they came to the Field of Celebrant **_

_**And brought death to the enemies of Gondor **_

_**The fields ran red with the blood of Orcs and Men **_

_**But the Men who fought so bravely **_

_**Did not shrink away from the enemy **_

_**But slew each ember of evil that rose from the flames of their foes **_

_**Until not one enemy stood before them **_

Gandalf could see the child was nodding off over her half-drunk mug of tea. Gandalf puffed out a host of warriors on horseback and sent the riders drifting out to where she lay half-asleep watching the dancing smoke rings and the pictures in them. She watched sleepily as they cantered towards her. She reached up one hand to touch one of the prancing blue-gray ponies, and she felt the soft, fragrant smoke brushing her skin before dissipating.

_**And after that hellish battle **_

_**Eorl rode with Cirion of Gondor to the Mering Stream **_

_**And there bid him farewell **_

_**And he rode away on the Father of the Mearas **_

_**Into the Western sunset **_

"Did you like the story, child?" The grey wizard asked softly, and she smiled and mumbled, "Yes, sir." She was nodding off even as she spoke. Gandalf blew one more puff of smoke, slowly releasing the smoke into a ship with three beautiful, tall masts that rowed its way over to her. She smiled, and Gandalf let it dissipate.

And she was asleep. He caught the half-full mug of tea as it fell from her limp hand. He looked up at Treebeard and smiled. He was almost sure the little one would be all right now.

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In the words of JunoMagic:

**Please feel free to leave a comment!**

_Anything at all:_ If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.

You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Disclaimers: I do not own the Lord of the Rings; I do not own blah-blah-blah. Said it in chapter one.


	17. Interlude Delwyn & Grima

**+++++++++++++++++++Interlude+++++++++++++++++++**

_Taking Place Between and During the Recovery of the Nameless Child_

**Delwyn & Grima **

Delwyn watched from the corner of her eye as her mother cuddled her brother, Gleowine. That pest! Lord Grima was right when he said that the Lady Gwynaeth did cosset and coddle that sallow-faced infant. She narrowed her eyes when her chubby little brother peeked at her from over her mother's shoulder, his big, gold flecked blue eyes blinking at her curiously. She stayed at the window seat, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her dark brown dress wasn't very warm, but sitting in the sun helped very much to warm her.

She felt someone come up beside her, and she looked up into the face of Lord Grima. She smiled up at him, pushing back the stray wisps of her hair. He stared down at her for a moment, then looked at her brother's round face and her mother's back and made a hideously grotesque face at the toddler.

Gleowine screwed up his own little face and began to cry. Delwyn smothered her giggles and looked up at the Rohirric lord in glowing admiration. He winked at her and whispered, "Squalling little infant, isn't he? Someone ought to shut him up." And with that, he glided away down the hall, with Lady Gwynaeth none the wiser, as she was struggling to hold her squirming child.

Delwyn smiled, a thin lipped smile that made her eyes shine darkly. "I'll take him, Mama," she murmured.

"Thank you, Del. I'll be right back, King Theoden has asked to speak with me." Gwynaeth set her child on the window seat beside her other child, and hurried off. Gleowine began to babble in his lisping, strange baby talk. The cadences of his voice made Del think of her grandfather, the King's Minstrel, and she almost wanted to listen. Then Lord Grima's words came back: _someone ought to shut him up._

Del stared coldly at her baby brother until he fell silent, his sunny smile oozing off of his face slowly, until he just looked at her apprehensively, sucking on his fist, his blue eyes wide.

"Don't talk to me, you dumb little baby," she snapped, and roughly shoved him off the seat. He fell and cracked his head on the flagstones of the floor, and began to wail.

"Dumb little baby," she hissed, and hopped off the window seat and walked away.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the words of JunoMagic:

**Please feel free to leave a comment!**

_Anything at all:_ If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.

You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Disclaimers: I do not own the Lord of the Rings; I do not own blah-blah-blah. Said it in chapter one.


	18. Interlude Eomer, Theodred, & Eothain

****

**+++++++++++++++++++Interlude+++++++++++++++++++**

_Taking Place Between and During the Recovery of the Nameless Child_

**Eomer, Theodred, & Eothain **

Theodred watched his young cousin as the Prince Eomer stared up at the stable ceiling from the pile of fresh, sweet smelling hay. The young man heaved a gusty sigh and flung an arm over his face.

"What's wrong, Eomund's Son?" The Crown Prince of Rohan sank gracefully down onto the hay beside his cousin.

"I'm lonely," the other prince said flatly. "My sister is missing. My best friend is laid up from a poisoned wound that I caused. And I… I miss Deorwyn. Tag-a-long little Deorwyn. I miss her."

"Your sister will turn up when she turns up, Eomer," Theodred murmured, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Eothain will get better, as well. He's a strong, healthy lad. As for Deorwyn… the Riders of Rohan will find her, if she is to be found. Fear not, Eomer."

The boy sighed and looked away. Theodred touched his shoulder again and said, "If you look outside, you'll see something to lift your spirits."

"Eothain!"

The other boy smiled wanly at his friend as he leaned heavily on his father's arm and tottered towards Eomer.

"Eothain, you're awake!"

"I don't feel awake, I feel like I'm dead." At his son's words, Lord Deorwine gave a decidedly forced chuckle and replied, "Not that, my lad, at least not yet. Well, I'll leave you lads to play, but have a care, Eothain."

"Yes, Father," the boy said softly, but caught Eomer's startled eye. His friend had a secret to tell. When the Lord of the Wild Province walked away, Eothain turned to the Prince of Rohan.

"Eomer, my sister!"

"They haven't found-"

"No, not her! Del! What's happened to her? She's turned into a complete beast! She's pure poison! What happened?"

The prince had no idea. He never really paid much attention to Delwyn because she was more interested in dolls and dresses, not fighting and riding like Deorwyn.

"And I know where Deorwyn is!"

"What?!"

"She's in Fangorn! She…." At this, he leaned in a whispered, "She's found the Ents. Tree herders, forest shepherds. The Ent king is taking care of her. She's fine."

Eomer stared at his friend for a very long moment, then asked, "Have you told your father this?"

Eothain's eyes turned to pale green ice.

"I should've known you wouldn't believe me." He started to struggle to his feet, wincing in pain as his stitched wound pulled at him. When he began to sink down again, Eomer leapt up and put a supporting arm around him.

"I didn't say I didn't believe you."

"Do you?" The young lordling demanded. "On your honor, do you believe me?"

Eomer was silent for a long moment, and then whispered, "I don't know. But I hope you're right. I hope she's alive."

"She's alive," Eothain murmured. "She'll come back one day.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the words of JunoMagic:

**Please feel free to leave a comment!**

_Anything at all:_ If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.

You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Disclaimers: I do not own the Lord of the Rings; I do not own blah-blah-blah. Said it in chapter one.


	19. Interlude Gwynaeth & Deorwine

**+++++++++++++++++++Interlude+++++++++++++++++++ **

**_Taking Place Between and During the Recovery of the Nameless Child_ **

**Gwynaeth & Deorwine**

"What are you doing?"

The Lady Gwynaeth, Healer and Mistress of Herb Lore at Deorwang and Meduseld, stared at her husband with wide, hurt eyes. He looked from her to the tiny, forest green gown he held half-folded in his hands, then at the golden wood chest half-full of child's clothes and a few dolls and toys.

"What are you doing with my daughter's things?"

"Gwynaeth-"

"You cannot be seriously considering… the burial chest? For those whose bodies have been lost? Why would you do that? She's not dead. **Why would you _do_ that?!**"

"Gwynaeth, Deorwyn isn't coming back! She's been missing for over a month. There's not way she could've survived in the wilds on her own, and if she'd managed to find someone who could take care of her she would've come back by now!"

The Lord Deorwine felt his heart crack inside his chest when a single tear slipped from his wife's silvery blue eye. The crack grew wider as he saw her bottom lip quiver ever so slightly. He took a single step toward her, reaching out to comfort her.

"Gwynaeth-"

"I will not let you bury our child. We buried Eowine, our first son, already. I won't bury another of my babes if I don't have to! Put those clothes back."

"Gwynaeth-"

"She could come back to us, Deor! Our daughter could come back to us and what would you say to her? How could you explain that you gave up on her ever coming back to us?" The Lady Healer gazed at her husband beseechingly. "She's my daughter. I know she's alive, husband, I **know** it."

"Gwynaeth…." Deorwine took his wife into his arms, and stroked her sunlight hair. "Very well, Gwynaeth. We shall wait, my wife. We shall wait." After a time, Deorwine loosened his embrace and stepped back. Caressing her cheek with the back of his hand, he whispered, "I must speak to Prince Theodred, my love. I must leave you now. But I'll be back. If you wish to put our wild one's clothes and toys back, then I shall not stop you." And with that, he walked out of their room. Gwynaeth watched him walk out, and then she fell to her knees, folded her arms across her chest, and prayed to the Valar for her children, all of them.

"Bless my son Eowine, who has gone into the loving arms of Eru. Bless my son Eothain, that he is once more my sweet, strong, brave boy. Bless my daughter, Deorwyn, that wherever she may be, she is safe. Bless my daughter Delwyn, and protect her from the encroaching shadows of our Enemies. Bless my son Gleowine, that he..." She trailed off for a moment, and suddenly she realized what her deepest fear for her son was. "Bless my son, Gleowine, that he may be protected from the curse of my family, and that he may know the darkness without fear. I will do anything, if you will bless and protect my children."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the words of JunoMagic:

**Please feel free to leave a comment!**

_Anything at all:_ If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.

You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Disclaimers: I do not own the Lord of the Rings; I do not own blah-blah-blah. Said it in chapter one.


	20. Interlude Eomer and Eowyn

**+++++++++++++++++++Interlude+++++++++++++++++++ **

**_Taking Place Between and During the Recovery of the Nameless Child_**

**Eowyn & Eomer**

Eomer knelt beside his cousin as Theodred knelt before his father, the King, and felt his heart leap into his throat. It had been almost two months since Eomer and Eothain had returned from their failed attempt to find Deorwyn, and almost two months since Eowyn had left, following their trail it seemed, and then disappearing into the wilds of the plains of Rohan.

Now his lord uncle had summoned him and his uncle's own son, Prince Theodred, before him to speak about Eowyn.

"I've had a missive from the outpost of Eorlingas on the borders of Fangorn, near Isengard," Théoden rumbled in his deep voice, his face solemn. Theodred rose to his feet, but Eomer stayed kneeling. He swallowed thickly as his eyes burned. Was his sister dead, then? Shadows of the Enemy came from Isengard. Had they taken his sister, too, after they'd already taken his father and mother? He felt ice flood his veins and his body went cold. He was alone… his father, his mother, and his sister were dead. His family was dead….

"Eowyn is there?" Theodred asked softly, eyes closed against what he thought was the inevitable. Eomer sucked in an agonized breath.

"No," the King replied, just as softly. Eomer felt a tear roll down his cheek and hit the flagstones. He bit his tongue against the swimming tears in his eyes, forbidding them to fall. She was dead, then. The King went on to say, "She's here."

"She's here?!" Theodred yelped.

Eomer said nothing, merely swallowed and surreptitiously wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve. Then he rose to his feet and whispered, "Lord uncle, may I see my sister?"

"I'm right here."

Eomer turned towards his sister, and felt his throat tighten. His eyes burned for a moment, then he walked over and threw his arms around her. "Eowyn!"

"Eomer…." She murmured, and he soundly thumped her on the head. "Ow! You wretch!" Their cousin grinned, his heart swelling with relief. Things would get back to normal… eventually.

****

"How bad was it?" Eomer asked later as his sister laid out upon her bed on her stomach. "Did Uncle thrash you?

"He said I'm confined to my room for six months," she muttered sullenly, and hit her pillow a few times. "Which means I'm going to miss Theodred's hunting party."

"It also means you're going to grow mold," he teased gently, and she hit him with her pillow. Then she whispered, "She's alive, brother. Deorwyn, she's alive. She has to be. There were rumors among the outlying villages, I could hear some of the people talking about a girl who walked with the trees, and had eyes like the forest."

"Who'd you hear it from?"

"Other children."

"They were probably making up stories," the Prince replied, and threw himself down on the bed beside her. "Don't believe a word of it."

The Princess of Rohan looked at her brother surreptitiously from the corner of her eye, and realized that Eomer couldn't believe Deorwyn was still alive- because to believe, and then find her dead, would break him. After all, Eomer had never seen a dead child before, much less one he cared for.

-----------------------

**Feel free to leave a review or comment! What you liked, what you didn't like, something particularly you enjoyed, a description, a suggestion, a criticism, anything at all! I accept all forms of critique.**


	21. Interlude Saruman & Sauron

**+++++++++++++++++++Interlude+++++++++++++++++++ **

**_Taking Place Between and During the Recovery of the Nameless Child_**

**Saruman & Sauron **

The White Wizard blinked stupidly, staring down in shock at the silver wood arrow sticking out of his chest. Sunk into his body up to the middle point of the shaft, the stiff, white swan feathers fletching the arrow were stained with blood dribbling from between his lips. He stared down for a long moment, then looked up into eyes like the wild forest, framed by dark golden lashes, full of righteous anger.

Her bow was drawn taut, and another silver-tipped, swan-fletched arrow was aimed at his chest.

Saruman jerked awake, gasping as he woke in his frigid sweat. His coal black eyes burned as his gaze swept around the room, searching for her, _her_, that vicious creature with the swan-fletched arrows that stung silver. But she wasn't there. There was nothing and no one there.

He wandered for a long while through the halls of Orthanc, down through the corridors until he found the front doors, and strode slowly out, gazing around. The bruised and battered sky bled in sickening greens, yellows, reds, and purples. The air stank of burning ozone and blood. Beneath the White Hand's feet, the earth shrieked and writhed in agony.

The land was dying. The land burned with pain and poison. The red death he'd poured into the Entwash was working. Perfect.

"You have done well, Saruman," the Shadow of the East hissed, the grating knife of a voice scraping from the inside of the _palantir_ and carving its way into the wizard's brain. He tried to feel pleased, but the jagged pain made it difficult. Still, he was pleased with the shrieking of the earth.

"Thank you, my lord."

"But do not grow arrogant, White Wizard. Your doom is close if you do not face it and destroy it while it is small and insignificant. Beware the Swan Princess, Saruman. She will kill you when the time comes if you do not kill her first."

And the connection snapped, with a vicious force that snapped the wizard's head back and knocked him to his knees. Something warm and wet touched his upper lip, and he caught a trickle of blood on his fingertips when he touched them to his nose. Demonic black horses galloped through his brain, smashing it into pieces of pain.

The Swan Princess? What did Sauron mean? The Swan Princesses, the Princesses of Dol Amroth, were no more! Ivriniel had married out of the family, and was the dumpiest, silliest creature any of the noble families had birthed in generations. Finduilas was dead these past years, dead birthing the last son of the Steward of Gondor. Celewyn had no Dol Amroth blood and was only Imrahil's wife.

There were no Swan Princesses. There was no threat.

__

**oo8oo8oo8oo**

And we have the next chapter. Hope you enjoyed.

In the words of JunoMagic:

**Please feel free to leave a comment!**

_Anything at all:_ If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.

You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

**Disclaimer/Author's Note:** don't own anything you recognize.


	22. Interlude Treebeard Gandalf & the NC

**+++++++++++++++++++Interlude+++++++++++++++++++ **

**_Taking Place Between and During the Recovery of the Nameless Child_**

**Treebeard, Gandalf, & the Nameless Child **

The Old Ent rustled his leaves as the sun warmed the sap within him, filling him with the essence of the ancient spring times. But even with the feeling of euphoria from the gentle warmth of the sun's beams, something was wrong. Not just strange, not a strange off-ness that sometimes occurred in nature when things went awry, but plain, down right, almost frighteningly wrong.

The rivers iced over in the height of summer time, the fields barren in spring, the skies raining acidic waters instead of the sweetness of the pure and natural rains… something was wrong in the forest of the Ents.

Darkness touched his roots as he began striding from the edge of the forest deeper into the shadows of the wood, the dappled light brushing over his branches and leaves, gentle whispers of sweetness and light as he tried to find the midnight stain upon the soul of the forest.

The earth wasn't screaming, not yet anyway, but soon, soon it would shriek and writhe in pain and agony, burn like the blazes of man's fires, burn like the summer heat in the broken and desiccated and dried out underbrush of the forest. The forest would burn.

Right now it ached, the forest, the sap running like poisonous, dagger-sharp ice through the trunks of the trees. Something was very, very wrong in the heart of Fangorn….

A sweet, gentle laugh, labored but still full of joy and innocence, brushed over his leaves and branches and trunk and roots, and knew that not everything was wrong in the heart of the woods. One thing, one beautiful thing, was very, very right.

The nameless child (the little girl who was once Deorwyn of Deorwang Province but Treebeard did not know this, and so in his mind she could only be the Nameless Child) walked slowly between the stately redwood and pine trees, for her lungs were still weak, but she stood straight, and she only leaned ever so slightly on the arm of the Grey Wizard as he escorted her through the wood.

"Good morning, Treeman," she called, and her breath only caught a little bit. She was strengthening slowly, like a sick sapling that was slowly regaining its life. Soon, rather soon he was sure, the little one would go back to her own forest, to the horse lords of Rohan.

"And a good day- haroom!- to you, my- ahhhh- little one," the Ent of Fangorn said gently, and he reached out a branch to touch her tangled, tawny hair like a sunset.

"Child," he said, with his large voice booming and harooming, "I need to speak with young master Gandalf. Would you go and sit in the sunlight- it will make you even better- while I speak to him."

Slowly, for she had no shoes and was still somewhat weak, she made her way to the brilliant patch of sunshine and Treebeard turned to the wizard.

"She's recovering," the Wizard said. "Soon, she'll be perfectly healthy, as long as she keeps drinking the Ent Draught mixed with the tea."

"And soon she will leave again, return to her people-a"

"No," Gandalf said. "She can't go back. She must stay with you until I bring her back to her people, and that, Master Fangorn, will not be for a long time. She must stay here with you."

The Ent stared at the wizard for a very, very long moment, the woodsy eyes catching the dark eyes of the Istari. Then he stared for a very long time at the little girl who stared up at the boughs of the tree she sat beneath, listening- he knew she was listening- to the forest grow. There was a tiny wrinkle between her eyebrows as she pressed her cheek to the bark of the redwood and exhaled a soft breath.

"You have seen this?"

"Yes," Gandalf replied, and that was all there was to be said for a very long time, until suddenly the nameless child gasped, ever so soft a catch of breath, and jerked her face away from the bark of the tree, scrambling to her feet.

"Little one?" Gandalf asked gently. She was starting to breathe shallowly, gasping for breath ever so lightly, her eyes wide and terrified. She stumbled over to the wizard and the Ent, and opened her mouth to speak, when another Ent shambled through the trees and haroomed, "Treebeard! Quickbeam, something has happened to Quickbeam!"

"The river!" The nameless child cried out softly, her voice catching in her throat. "The river, the water! The earth, the water, the trees!" Tears rolled down her cheeks as she grabbed at Gandalf's sleeve. "The trees, the water!"

They stared down at her, the two Ents and the Wizard, and knew that somehow, she knew exactly what was wrong with the forest.

___**oo8oo8oo8oo** _

In the words of JunoMagic:

**Please feel free to leave a comment!**

_Anything at all:_ If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.

You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

**Disclaimer/Author's Note:** don't own anything you recognize.


	23. Prt2 tNC Day 15 Delwyn & Grima

**Deorwyn: Book One of the Eryniel Saga **

**Part Two **

_**I Aresse Selda **_

**That Is, the Nameless Child **

**++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Day 15++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ **

**Delwyn and Grima **

"How are you doing today, my sweet lady?"

The young Lady Delwyn looked up from her patient laboring at her wax tablet and smiled happily up at Grima Wormtongue, who gently ran his hand through her long, tawny gold hair. He knelt down beside her and studied her laboriously crafted Rohirric runes, nodding his approval.

"Well done, Del," he said, and smiled. The tense, pinched expression that was always present in her face slowly began to fade away. She smiled wider, and put her stylus down. "Your parents are staying for the year, then, at Meduseld?"

"Yes, sir, Master Grima," she murmured happily.

"Wonderful, my sweet girl. That means we can stay together for a very long time, doesn't it?" He grinned when she smiled, and stroked her hair. She was so much in love with him now, so much in love, she would do anything for him, anything at all. The sweet little thing, so innocent and gullible, the perfect tool. "Delwyn, my dear, I need to speak to you on something very, very important. Can you keep a secret for me, dearest lady?"

He smirked inside where she couldn't see and stroked her cheek with the backs of his knuckles when she nodded emphatically.

"Delwyn, the Lord Eomer has been snooping into our business. We're in trouble if he gets too close, and he's getting too close, sweeting. He's getting far too close. I need you to do something to distract him, to lead him away, anything. You have to do this for me, my little one. He's planning something, and you've got to find out what it is. Do you understand me?"

"Oh, yes, Master Grima. I can do that. Anything you want."

He cupped her face, ever so gently, and stroked her tiny, rosebud mouth, smiling gently, paternally. "You're a beautiful, sweet girl, Delwyn," he said. "Your parents do not appreciate you as they should. But I do. Oh yes, my sweet one, I appreciate you. Now, back to your studies."

"Yes, Master Grima," she said softly, smiling. She had a pretty smile, he had to admit. But the charm and sweetness of it were lost on him. He swept from the room with a rustle of his cloak, humming softly to himself under his breath, while his little puppet went back to her schoolwork.

___**oo8oo8oo8oo** _

In the words of JunoMagic:

**Please feel free to leave a comment!**

_Anything at all:_ If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.

You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

**Disclaimer/Author's Note:** don't own anything you recognize.


	24. Prt2 NC Day15 Eomer Eothain & the Shadow

**++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Day 15++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ **

**Eomer, Eothain, and the Shadow**

"She's alive, Eomer, I'm telling you, I can feel it in the marrow of my bones! For the love of the Valar, Eomer, you have to believe me!!!"

Eothain, eldest son of the Lord of Deorwang, gazed beseechingly at his comrade and brother-in-arms, eyes bright like brittle emeralds ready to be shattered at the slightest word against him and his brilliant shining hope that flickered within his eyes. He clutched the hem of his tunic in both fists, worrying the dark blue material in his hands, trying to calm himself enough to make himself sound rational.

"Eothain," Eomer yelped, "I can't… how do you know? You can't know!"

"But I do know, Eomer, I do know! She's in Fangorn, and she needs our help!" The lad began gasping for breath suddenly, and sank back onto his bed, his hand pressed to his chest. The poison had weakened his body, Eomer knew that. The Prince rushed to his friend's side and did the strange rubbing motion along his back that Gwynaeth, Eothain's mother, had shown him to help with his breathing. Slowly, he regained control of his breath.

"What do you expect us to be able to do, Eothain?" The Prince demanded, though his voice was gentle, not harsh or angry. It was more than Eomer had expected from himself- the thought of Deorwyn, naggy little tag along lady-girl who wanted to learn to ride, fight, swim, and become a Rider of Rohan made his chest feel swollen and hot, like an infected cut. "If she is alive, and she needs help, we have to tell your father."

"I've spoken to my father," he said sullenly, clenching the blankets in his fists. "He doesn't listen. The only reason he hasn't completed the Rite of the Burial Chest is because my mother swore she would leave him if she did."

"L-leave-"

"Eomer… something is coming. I can feel it, and it's all about her. Deorwyn. She is entangled in this web of fate somehow. I know it, Gleowine knows it… I think even Delwyn knows it. We're all connected, us four. We know each other, we're part of each other. We know when the others are in danger, need help. Deorwyn is doing something big right now, something so grand and important that if it fails, all of Rohan falls, and the War won't be a War, it shall be a slaughter."

"War… what war? We're not in a war."

"But we will be," Eothain whispered. "We all will be. This war that's coming… from Isengard and Mordor-"

"Mordor!? Isengard?! Mordor's been shut for over a thousand years, the Enemy from the East died in the great war from the Second Age. And Isengard is our ally!"

"It isn't," Eothain cried, and dropped his head into his hands, drawing a shuddering, half-sobbing breath. "He's trying to kill her, Eomer! And she's going to kill him. They'll all kill each other, everyone's going to kill each other, but the arrow, the white and silver and black arrow of the Queen's Flight, it's going to end the oncoming War, but Saruman is going to try to kill her now, and if he gets to her now the kingdoms will fall apart and-"

"Eothain, who are you talking about?"

"Lothiriel! Deorwyn, Eryniel, the Princess of the Woses, all of them, they're… I don't… Eomer, we need to ride again. We need to ride out to Fangorn and help her. We must. If we don't, everything will end now, before its proper time. We've got to go! We have got to go, we have to ride to Fangorn, we have to help her or else everything is lost and-"

"Eothain, I- who's there?!"

Both boys leapt to their feet as a shadow darted past the cracked door to Eothain's room and down the hall. By the time they made it to the hallway, the shadow had disappeared and both boys were filled with a sick sense of dread.

**oo8oo8oo8oo**

**Please feel free to leave a comment!**

_Anything at all:_ If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.

You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Disclaimers: I don't own anything you recognize.


	25. Prt2 NC Day15 Gandalf, Ents, & the NC

**+++++++++++++++++++Interlude+++++++++++++++++++ **

**_Taking Place Between and During the Recovery of the Nameless Child_**

**Treebeard, Gandalf, & the Nameless Child **

The Old Ent rustled his leaves as the sun warmed the sap within him, filling him with the essence of the ancient spring times. But even with the feeling of euphoria from the gentle warmth of the sun's beams, something was wrong. Not just strange, not a strange off-ness that sometimes occurred in nature when things went awry, but plain, down right, almost frighteningly wrong.

The rivers iced over in the height of summer time, the once golden and green fields barren and brown in the heart of springtime, the sun scorching the once healthy, green leaves and thick canopy of the forest with heat that itched to kindle wildfires, the skies raining acidic waters instead of the sweetness of the pure and natural rains, the winds bringing the decayed stench of corpses and the smoke of forest firest… something was wrong in the forest of the Ents. Darkness touched his roots as he began striding from the edge of the forest deeper into the shadows of the wood, the dappled light brushing over his branches and leaves, gentle whispers of sweetness and light as he tried to find the midnight stain upon the soul of the forest.

The earth wasn't screaming, not yet anyway, but soon, soon it would shriek and writhe in pain and agony, burn like the blazes of man's fires, burn like the summer heat in the broken and desiccated and dried out underbrush of the forest. The forest would burn. Right now it ached, the forest, the sap running like poisonous, dagger-sharp ice through the trunks of the trees. Something was very, very wrong in the heart of Fangorn… a creeping taint... a poison....

A sweet, gentle laugh, labored but still full of joy and innocence, brushed over his leaves and branches and trunk and roots, and the Old Ent of the Forest of Fangorn remembered then that not everything was wrong in the heart of the woods where he roamed. One thing, one beautiful thing, was very, very right.

The nameless child (the little girl who was once Deorwyn of Deorwang Province, but Treebeard did not know this, and so in his mind she could only be the Nameless Child) walked slowly between the stately redwood and pine trees, for her lungs were still weak, but she stood straight, and she only leaned ever so slightly on the arm of the Grey Wizard as he escorted her through the wood.

"Good morning, Treeman," she called, and her breath only caught a little bit. She was strengthening slowly, like a sick sapling that was slowly regaining its life. Soon, rather soon he was sure, the little one would go back to her own forest, to the horse lords of Rohan and the treeless plains that stretched from the edge of his wood to the mountains between Gondor and the country of the Eorlingas. The thought made his old, gnarled knot of a heart squeeze painfully in his trunk. The idea of her leaving was not a pleasant one.

"And- _ahhhhhh_- good day- _haroom!_- to you, my- _ahhhh_- little one," the Ent of Fangorn said gently, and he reached out a branch to touch her tangled, tawny hair like a sunset. Her smile was like the dawn after the longest winter night. He let its light wash over him, but then a dark gray eye like a storm cloud caught his gaze, and gave him a meaningful look.

"Master Gandalf," he acknowledged softly, breathing in with a wheezing gulp. A touch against his bark got his attention.

"Treeman?"

"Child," he said, with his large voice booming and harooming, "I need to speak with young master Gandalf. Would you go and sit in the sunlight- it will make you feel even better- while I speak to him?"

Slowly, for she had no shoes and was still somewhat weak, she made her way to the brilliant patch of sunshine and Treebeard turned to the wizard.

"She's recovering," the Wizard said. "Soon, she'll be perfectly healthy, as long as she keeps drinking the Ent Draught mixed with the tea."

"And soon she will leave again, return to her people-"

"No," Gandalf interrupted. "She can't go back. She must stay with you until _I_ bring her back to her people, and that, Master Fangorn, will not be for a long time. She must stay here with you, Treebeard."

The Ent stared at the wizard for a very, very long moment in poignant silence, the woodsy eyes catching the dark eyes of the Istari. Then he stared for a very long time at the little girl who stared up at the boughs of the tree she sat beneath, listening- he knew she was listening- to the forest grow. There was a tiny wrinkle between her eyebrows as she pressed her cheek to the bark of the redwood and exhaled a soft breath. There was puzzlement and wonder, as well as happiness, on her thin, adolescent face.

"You have... _ahhhhh_... seen this?"

"Yes," Gandalf replied, and that was all there was to be said for a very long time, until suddenly the nameless child gasped, ever so soft a catch of breath, and jerked her face away from the bark of the tree, scrambling to her feet.

"Little one?" Gandalf asked gently. She was starting to breathe shallowly, gasping for breath ever so lightly, her eyes wide and terrified. She stumbled over to the wizard and the Ent, and opened her mouth to speak, when another Ent shambled through the trees and haroomed, "Treebeard! Silverbirch, something has happened to Silverbirch!"

"The river!" The nameless child cried out softly, her voice catching in her throat. "The river, the water! The earth, the water, the trees!" Tears rolled down her cheeks as she grabbed at Gandalf's sleeve, pulling with all her strength. Her face was far too near the color of bleached bone, as if all the blood had drained from her cheeks. "The trees, the water!"

They stared down at her, the two Ents and the Wizard, and knew that somehow, she knew exactly what was wrong with the forest.

___**oo8oo8oo8oo** _

In the words of JunoMagic:

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	26. Prt2 NC Day 15 Gleowine & Delwyn

** Day 16 **

**Gleowine and Delwyn**

"Del!"

Gleowine, toddling little minstrel-in-training-to-be, waddled over to his sister as she watched the Lord Grima whispering to the King on his throne. The King was nodding at whatever it was that Grima son of Galmod had said. She smiled at her lord's triumph.

"Del!" He cried again, her irritating little brother, and tugged on her skirts. "Del, Del!"

She had to get him to shut up somehow, or she would be discovered. They both would be scolded by the King, the Steward, and their parents, in that order.

Then she would receive punishment from Lord Grima… he had never punished her, but he had punished other children, other boys and girls, mostly servants' children, and they had always left his rooms hurting and crying, and refusing to be comforted by their parents, refusing even to speak of what the Rohirric lord had done.

Others, the serving maids who were close to becoming grown ups, servant girls who had seen at least thirteen or fourteen summers, whispered of the punishments they received from Lord Grima as well. Some smiled, and others wept.

"Gleowine, hush up!"

"Del!"

Snarling under her breath, she grabbed her baby brother's hand and dragged him down the corridor, away from the Great Hall, whispering words her father sometimes said about Orcs. She finally found her parents' room and hauled him inside and shut the door.

"Leave me alone, you stupid baby!"

Gleowine stepped back from her and tripped over his own feet, falling onto his bottom. He began to sob loudly, almost screaming, the sound of it scraping over Delwyn's ears, driving her mad.

"Stop crying!" Delwyn suddenly yelled, and slapped him as hard as she could across the face. She almost cried, her palm was smarting so badly, but didn't. Her brother stared at her in shock, his face a brilliant bloody scarlet where her hand had connected, and began screaming in pain.

"D-Del…." He howled. "Owieeeeeee… ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!"

"Next time you talk to me," she yelled, "I'll hurt you so bad, even Mother won't be able to fix you. Do you hear? I'll hit you so hard blood comes out. Don't tell Mother and Father, either. I'll get you if you do."

And she slapped him again, as hard as she could with her other hand, and left him sobbing and screaming in pain in her parents' room as she bolted down the hall to the safety of her lord's room before her mother and father came back from their volunteer shift in the King's fields.

**_00800800800800800_**

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_**Anything at all. I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing.**_

_**Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**_


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